


Malinger

by grayorca, YearwalktheWorld



Series: Triverse [14]
Category: Castle Rock (TV), Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drabble, Drama, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 09:54:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17578661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grayorca/pseuds/grayorca, https://archiveofourown.org/users/YearwalktheWorld/pseuds/YearwalktheWorld
Summary: AU/Crossover. Gesundheit.





	Malinger

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little missing scene from _Trifecta_ , between 15/16. Borne of the semi-humorous idea that androids sneeze dust to clear their systems of it. It turned from hurt/comfort to semi-dramatic to very open-ended.
> 
> Because.

Between Stratford Tower and Zlatko’s abode, he thought he had a handle on all the given aspects of where the deviancy investigation stood - at large. Yes, there had been a gruesome child murder, a basement full of horror-show deviants unearthed, a covert raid of CyberLife’s warehouse at the docks, and a high-level infiltration operation of a TV station - all in the span of the same day.

Not to mention the (very much unreported) aspect that was Nick’s self-destruction attempt. That tidbit didn’t matter so much to the general public as it (reputedly) did Connor and a few select others. So, true to form, once the matter was brought up, and consequently settled, he didn’t mention it again.

Then Simon self-destructed in his hands.

His overtaxed processor promptly flagged the sensation as “maxed out”.

——-

Two hours later, the overflow was still hurting his… work efforts. He and his partners reconvened at Central Station not long after inspecting the scene at Stratford Tower came to an end. Hank Anderson took on the task of processing and cataloguing the accumulated evidence (because not everything about the procedure was entrusted to machines).

And he promptly deflected Connor’s offer to help.

“No.  _ You _ \- sit there, on this bench, and relax. I’m still not convinced you’ve wound down from all that shit.”

That said, he left the primary standing idle at the door to the archive room.

A second later, still waylaid with indecisiveness, Connor found himself the victim of a spontaneous sneeze. The pressure against his cranial plates surged. With a precise flick of his hand he brushed away the forewarning puff of dust from his upper lip.

Periodic as that function was, to filter out airborne impurities from one’s ventilation, it didn’t help his approximated headache feel any more relieved.

He tried pinching the bridge of his nose, eyelids clamped shut, at precisely the wrong moment.

Someone grabbed his wrist to pull his hand away.

Before he could think to snap at them, he averted his face, half-coughing the resulting sneeze out in the opposite direction.

It almost hurt. Not that he had the same sinus cavities as a human, but it compounded the already-present ache in all the wrong ways.

“Don't hold that in,” Nick said, unseen from whatever position he was in, but clearly him from the voice. The hand around his wrist squeezed it gently. “You could hurt yourself if you do.” 

As if he didn’t already know.

Wincing, Connor let his eyes reopen to bare slits. “Noted.”

Nick stared at him with clear concern on his face, biting his lip as he seemed to search for whatever he was about to say. “Are you… okay, Con? From everything?” 

They need not waste words defining ‘everything’. It was too much for even a few sentences to hold.

Gruffly, he pulled his hand away, brushing again at the leftover dust below his nose. “I’m fine. …Why? Are you or Dennis experiencing more - glitches?”

The latent uplink failure was as fresh on their minds as anything else. Glitches was a kinder way of saying total, mind bending program breaches.

Nick shook his head no, going back to holding his hands up his chest nervously. “No, we're good. Just wanted to - to make sure you  _ were _ okay, not just saying you are.” 

As if they could tell the difference if he wasn’t.

He feigned a brief, aggravated sigh. “Lieutenant Anderson doesn’t require any help cataloging the evidence. I was hoping he did. The specimen we encountered could use further examination.”

Nick frowned, shaking his head slightly. “That's not really… what I meant. How are you feeling, though? After something like that…” 

That.

He wasn’t so sure what ‘that’ was.

“Less than… optimal,” Connor admitted, blinking against the haziness still lingering at the sides of his vision. “It’s akin to what the humans say about… having one’s head in a vice. Too much data to assimilate.” Reconsidering how dismissively he typically handled such questions, he glanced up, forcing his eyes a bit wider. The light levels of the hallway felt twice as intense as usual. “But I appreciate the concern.”

After another moment, Nick hesitantly offered his hand, seemingly ready to draw it back at a moment’s notice. “I could… try to help, if I saw it, if you want. Might make your head feel a bit better.” 

So the discomfort was apparent, even if he hadn’t admitted it.

Connor eyed the raised hand as if it were a weapon in its own right, something contagious and worth avoiding. For the moment, he disregarded how it potentially violated Amanda’s most recent instruction, to not let their third handle evidence.

Talking his partner out of a self-destruct attempt had been trying enough. And then for both of them to suffer the feedback of another deviant doing the same,  _ while _ connected to its memory, get a sense of that awful, empty black nothingness -

He couldn’t stave off a shudder.

Nick didn’t need to see that. He had enough stressors without adding to them.

“And yours feel worse. No.” Belatedly, he thought to glance down, loosen his tie just the barest amount. “Really, I’ll be fine, Nick. I just need to - follow Lieutenant Anderson’s advice.”

The hand trailed back, mismatched eyes still boring into Connor, picking up on every little sign of his discomfort and other negative feelings. “Okay, if you're… sure. Don't hold your sneezes in, then, your head will feel worse if you do.”

Indulging the fawning-over insofar as that went, Connor tried to borrow one of Dennis’ smirks - despite how the expression probably did not fit his features. “Thank you, I won’t.”

Nick didn't give a smile or anything back, but his worried expression became even softer, if it was possible - obviously, he was still unused to the new side of Connor they were all seeing. He gave a nod and backed off of him a bit, lingering about a foot away to give him some (breathing) space.

But not so much he couldn’t ask one more question, because for all his faults, he was inquisitive enough to pass for a detective.

“Connor, you don't… have to answer this, but I need to ask. Did you - did you know? Before, about me? That I was supposed to be deviant all along?” 

Despite saying he didn't have to answer, it was clear from Nick's slightly desperate tone that he wanted an answer, any answer he could get. 

Any answer whatsoever versus none at all.

Loathe as he was to use the words, the smirk dropped. “I thought I knew, one way or another. But now I don’t know what I knew anymore.” Pausing to let it sink in, he folded his arms - not defensive, but that had felt more like an unintended reveal than he counted on. “For the time being, you’re just Nick, all right?”

No labels. No preconceived ideas he did or didn’t fit.

They were whoever they were, for better or worse.


End file.
